


Foxholes and the Oval

by goreds



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Heart Attacks, M/M, a scene that was honestly missing, i will duel john wells at dawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goreds/pseuds/goreds
Summary: Lord John Marbury visits Leo McGarry after his heart attack.
Relationships: John Marbury/Leo McGarry
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	Foxholes and the Oval

Lord John Marbury never thinks he would enter a hospital willingly. He supposes he will be wheeled in someday in the far-flung future, yes, but he does not make hospital visits to family, friends or enemies.

Yet here he was, standing outside Leo Thomas McGarry’s room in the ICU, where he was recovering from a massive heart attack.

Marbury had easily ferreted the information out of a nervous aide at the White House--which hospital, that is. Then he had to figure out visiting hours and where McGarry’s room was, and how the hell _he_ was supposed to get visiting permissions...but being the British diplomat has its perks.

To be honest, he isn’t sure what to do past the point of actually getting _to_ the room. He can see into the room from the glass observation window, and what he sees is terrible. McGarry, his sparring partner, his “Gerald,” is hooked up to all sorts of machines, with tubes and lines and all the various accouterments of being in a hospital after a massive heart attack.

Rumor had it McGarry had the attack after a fight with President Bartlet.

Marbury respects Jed Bartlet, admires the man, even, but he knows that whatever the man had said to McGarry had to have been terrible to induce such events. The two men were as thick as thieves; for however Marbury enjoyed the two of them, he always got the feeling he was intruding on them in some way. He also felt he was a part of some prank the President was constantly playing on Leo...ah, McGarry.

But Marbury didn’t mind that. He enjoyed McGarry’s company and exchanging barbs about British colonialism and so-called American exceptionalism.

Which is why he wanted to see him in the first place. Just to wish him well. CJ Cregg was the interim White House Chief of Staff, but Leo would, of course, be back--

Why does he keep slipping and calling McGarry “Leo”? They’re not nearly as familiar as that. Besides, he’s “Gerald,” heart attack or no.

So that’s what Marbury calls him when he bursts through the door, all bravado hiding an extreme case of nerves. Leo doesn’t start, instead looking sleepily in his direction and giving a loopy almost-smile. For Leo or Gerald or McGarry or whatever Marbury’s calling him today is likely high as a kite, he realizes too late.

And that maybe trying to startle a man who’s just had a heart attack isn’t the brightest idea in the world.

“Your lordship,” Leo just rasps, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I heard you were laid up, stopped by to see if it was really true. That nature had finally felled you.”

“I wouldn’t say felled, I’m not dead.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” Leo repeats the word, dragging it out, almost slurring it. If Marbury didn’t know any better, he’d say Leo had leaped off the wagon, but he knew from a quick glance at Leo’s chart that wasn’t the case.

“I saw Miss Cregg. She is doing an admirable job in your absence. Which I hope isn’t for long.” Marbury smiles, to show he’s genuine. But Leo just slumps a little further, which seems almost impossible for the frail man swaddled in hospital blankets and seemingly drowning in his hospital gown.

The Leo McGarry lying before him isn’t the Leo McGarry he saw last. He wants to ask the question, so he does, because he’s Lord John Marbury, and he asks whatever questions he damn well pleases.

“What the hell did Jed Bartlet do to you, anyway?”

It’s as if Marbury’s took a flame and ignited one of Leo’s oxygen tanks, consuming him. Leo snaps to attention, very nearly. “You mean _President_ Bartlet, you British prick.”

“I heard he yelled at you in a forest, and you had a heart attack not long after that. Clearly he did something--”

“Jed didn’t cause this, I caused this! I’m an addict, this was coming sooner or later--”

And Marbury matches Leo’s volume, because now he’s angry, too: “But it was induced somehow, and I want to know _how_.”

Leo rolls his eyes heavenward, and it looks like his familiar gesture takes considerable effort. “God, I should beat your ass--”

“Please, try. I’ll wait.” Marbury folds his arms and glares right back at Leo.

Leo knows he’s been beaten, from the defeated look that seems to consume him. The lion that lives within him takes a rest, letting the old man take over. “Sit,” is all he says, for a moment.

Marbury does so. And waits. And then...

“You ever have a best friend? A best friend you would kill for? One you would die for?”

“I’ve had a few. An MI6 compatriot. Foxholes and safe houses are as intense as I imagine the Oval is on some days.” If Leo is surprised by Marbury’s admission to having been in MI6, he doesn’t show it.

Leo nods, slowly. “He’s still my best friend. But I’m not sure I want to die for him anymore.”

“Sounds like you very nearly did.”

“I’m never going to be Chief of Staff again. That’s what we fought about.”

Marbury takes this in, this blunt admission by the man whose entire existence seemed to revolve around one Jed Bartlet. “He fired you?” Marbury doesn’t expect the sentence to come out as quite so strangled or as deadly quiet as it does.

Leo makes eye contact with Marbury, and he doesn’t need to say anything. The man’s eyes are shiny, if ever flinty.

Jed Bartlet fired the man who would die for him, or even kill for him. Who probably had killed and had very nearly died. Marbury didn’t feel admiration for Jed anymore. He wanted him to feel what Leo had felt. The feeling of being abandoned so cruelly by someone you adored, worshipped...loved.

“Your black eyes are even darker, Lord John.” Leo’s voice is wry, but he’s completely wrung out, and Marbury knows this.

“In England, we’d very dignifiedly beat the shit out of a man for doing that to a...friend.”

“What would you do in MI6?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I have the feeling I already do.” Leo is half-grinning, but not quite beaming like he does when he’s really happy. Marbury wonders if he’ll ever see that side of the man again.

“Do you mind if I come back and visit you?”

“No.” Leo doesn’t say it, but Marbury can tell very few people have been in to visit him. It isn’t that Leo isn’t the type of man to have friends, but he isn’t the type of man who is able to keep them.

“Well then, I shall visit, from time to time, and we’ll get you better and out of here and find something else, something better, for you to do.” Marbury feels all bravado, and he knows he sounds that way, too.

Leo turns his face downward. “I’m not sure I’ll ever do something better.”

In response, Marbury reaches over and lifts Leo’s chin. “You will. There are better friends out there than the likes of a man who would fire his best friend so unceremoniously. You’re a good man, Leo Thomas McGarry, and you’ll get back on your feet soon enough.”

“And here I thought you only knew me as ‘Gerald’.” And Leo is beaming, now. Sure, he’s a little loopy, but he seems genuinely happy that Marbury knows his name. Marbury finds himself crookedly smiling back.

“I keep tabs on people I admire.” He pats Leo on the hand and rises to go. A soft beeping trills in the background. “Which one’s that?” Marbury says, indicating the noise.

“That’s the pain meds.”

“Shouldn’t you be...careful, with those?”

“Go, before I throw something at you.”

“I’d like to see that.”

“I bet you would.”

And so, Lord John Marbury leaves his friend, Leo Thomas McGarry, a little happier than he was before he burst into the room. He has that effect on people, he’s told.

And truth be told, he himself feels lighter than he has in years. Maybe it’s the altruism, but the idea he could help Leo through this brings him some weird, sick sense of joy. That he’s there when Jed Bartlet is not. Maybe he can find a position for Leo somewhere in the British Consulate. Or somewhere with the Irish delegation.

They’d be colleagues, old friends, men who relied on each other. Leo could finally rely on someone else as opposed to being the one who was relied on constantly. And if he could be that person for Leo, well...

Why shouldn’t he be happy?


End file.
